


hand over hand

by just_one_iota



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Sibling Incest, the boys making decisions with the wrong head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_iota/pseuds/just_one_iota
Summary: Maitimo, Maglor, and an unshakeable bad idea.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo/Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	hand over hand

It was cruel of him, but once the thought entered his head he could not let it go.

He and Makalaurë had been so careful, so wary of being caught. They both knew the consequences if they were discovered and had taken every possible precaution to ensure that no one would ever know. It terrified Maitimo. It kept him up at night with his heart pounding, the darkness brushing across his eyelids and whispering terrible scenarios into his ear, scenarios where they were separated forever.

Which was why Maitimo couldn't explain the impulse that led him to slip his hand over and slowly across the smooth fabric of Makalaurë's inner thigh, right there at the feast.

To all outward signs Makalaurë was still. But underneath his fingertips, Maitimo could feel the sudden awareness thrumming. It wasn't like anyone would see them. It was dark; they were at the back; all eyes were on the bard performing her heart out in the courtyard far ahead of them. But it was still undeniably risky, and a reckless thrill ran through Maitimo as he carefully inched his fingers up the seam of Makalaurë's soft leggings. 

(Makalaurë was such a snob about fabrics, but it wasn't until their relationship had changed that Maitimo had begun to appreciate the sensuousness of it, the way velvet felt against his cheek when he was on his knees and rubbing his face wantonly against a covered crotch.)

Today was not velvet, but whatever it was, it was surely expensive. Slowly Maitimo nudged the wine red tunic aside.

He flicked his gaze to the side to check that this was okay. Makalaurë looked back at him, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes aflame. His chest was rising and falling more rapidly than was strictly normal for a celebratory feast. Maitimo looked straight ahead at the performance on stage and let his fingers brush over the trapped balls. Makalaurë gave an almost imperceptible shudder. He took a deep breath, and then he too looked straight at the bard while carefully sliding lower in his seat and tilting his hips to give Maitimo better access.

Maitimo kept his touch feather light, just the pads of his fingers, and dragged it up over soft curves and a hard line that grew under his touch. Slowly, his slid his whole hand back down from fingertip to palm. Makalaurë's breath came out a touch ragged, his beautiful full lips falling open just a little. His bottom lip glistened with saliva on top. Maitimo hungered.

He was not even pretending to pay attention to the sub-standard musical performance now. Though they sat at a near full table, the seats in either side of them had been vacated earlier in the night. Findis was seated opposite them, but she too was turned to face the stage.

There was no one to see how intently Maitimo watched his brother's face as he began to massage the bulge under his fingers. It pressed eagerly against the fabric, reaching for his touch. He ler his hand drift upwards, thumb drawing lazy circles just beneath the head. It twitched delightfully. Then he let his thumb slip over the top where the slit would be. Makalaurë still made no sound, but Maitimo could see the tension in his face. If he didn't know better he might have mistaken it for pain.

It was at that moment that Findis turned. She did not look at the boys, only reaching absently for her glass of wine. Maitimo stilled his arm, his heart thumping, but kept his thumb tracing patterns. She took a sip. Maitimo squeezed lightly. Makalaurë and Findis swallowed at the same time.

A tiny wet patch was starting to form on Makalaurë's trousers. He trembled as Findis put her glass back down and turned away from the table to watch the music again. Somehow Maitimo's arousal was only building more, dizzying and befuddling.

Makalaurë moved. Suddenly, Maitimo felt a hand upon his own thigh, quickly rising over his already aching hard cock. When he looked up, Makalaurë's eyes held a challenge beneath the arousal.

Oh, stars, yes. Makalaurë's hand rubbed over him in a starburst of sensation. He tried to mimic the movement in return, and then slid his hand up the the ties of the leggings. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Makalaurë take a deep breath. Then the hand on his cock reached for his own ties, nimbly undoing them.

Heart racing and mouth dry, Maitimo fumbled with the knots (frustratingly difficult, one-handed) until they loosened. He took hold of Makalaurë even as he felt delicate fingers do the same to him. The absurdity of the situation made it feel surreal.

Eru, they were really doing this, in the middle of the feast with their family and their people right there. Makalaurë's touch was dry but it was warm and silky smooth. Maitimo couldn't help shuddering and shifting his hips slightly in need. At the edge of his vision he saw Makalaurë smile. Talented long fingers, thin as piano keys, drew themselves up his cock lazily.

Makalaurë was leaking more than he was. Maitimo traced the sticky areas, mapping them out with his fingers and feeling blood vessels pulse frantically. He felt the mad urge to crawl under the table and lick it off Makalaurë directly, but there were limits. Even at the back of the room someone was bound to notice if Maitimo disappeared before slipping back out from under the table with dusty knees and mussed hair (Makalaurë did so love to dig his hands in), mouth red from where Makalaurë would inevitably have fucked it if he could.

(Would they hear the wet sounds of his throat being used? Would Maitimo be able to restrain himself from moaning fervently around his younger brother's cock, moans so needy that they were almost begging?)

Desperately aroused and incredibly frustrated, Maitimo brought his hand to his mouth and licked it. Makalaurë, forgetting the music, snapped his head towards him with wide eyes. Maitimo returned his wet hand to where it had been and began to stroke with more ease than before. Prickling warmth was spreading throughout his body.

Makalaurë felt _right_ in his hand, thick and very warm, like he belonged there. He twisted a little on the upstrokes like he knew his brother enjoyed, feeling the muscles of the powerful thighs below clench. Makalaurë flicked his head to look around, hair swishing behind him. No one was even facing their way. He brought his own hand to his mouth and coated it in saliva too before wrapping it back around Maitimo.

Fuck, that felt so good. In breathless silence they pleasured each other for a few minutes, keeping their eyes facing forward and their breaths as even as possible. Maitimo fought the urge to buck into Makalaurë's hand, sensation building all too fast like he was an untouched youth again. There was something electric about this, doing it right here where anyone could turn around and see, stroking Makalaurë off with a gifted hand on himself. Desperately Maitimo tried to speed up the pace a little, and Makalaurë complied with a firmer tighter grip.

He knew when Makalaurë was about to come. His thighs were tense, his skin hot and damp and pulsing hard beneath Maitimo's palm. He was sweating a little from one temple. It ran down the side of his face.

Maitimo wanted to lick it. Maitimo wanted to rip the lovely tunic off and ravish him right there on the table until he screamed and sung like no one else had ever heard.

Makalaurë certainly seemed to be having trouble containing his sounds. His mouth tightened and twisted erratically, his facial expression losing control as the stately feast song swelled to its climax. The crowd began to clap and cheer appreciations, their whoops and laughter just drowning out Makalaure's squeak as he came over himself and the hand working him furiously.

Maitimo dropped his messy hand back into his own lap as the others turned away from the stage and back to the tables. The hem of Makalaurë's tunic slipped back down, covering his disheveled and undone state.

His hand had stilled on Maitimo, who had to press his lips together to avoid whimpering and begging. He was so hard he could barely breathe. Desperately, he kicked his foot out sideways and felt it connect with an ankle.

Makalaurë seemed to jerk back to awareness, the mindless transported bliss on his face quickly buried beneath the surface. His eyes focused again. To Maitimo's horror, Findis had returned to her glass, and was looking at Makalaurë with bemused humour.

"You look as though you were spirited away from this world, nephew," she teased. "Did the music affect you so? Will we have to find a net to fish your head out of the clouds again?"

Makalaure smiled winningly and swung his legs around in the chair so that he was sitting almost diagonally on it, facing Findis. The move brought him closer to Maitimo and disguised the fact that his hand was down his brother's pants. To Maitimo's mingled horror and gratitude, it began to move again.

"Music is always a transforming experience," Makalaurë agreed. "I thought that was an excellent performance, if a little lacking in expression... is the bard from Tirion?"

 _Liar,_ Maitimo thought in some part of his delirious mind that was focused neither on his brother's hand on his cock nor desperately trying not to show any obvious signs of all-consuming arousal and distraction. _You hated it._ He was sure his cheeks were pink and his expression was strange. _Please don't let Findis look at him, please don't let Findis look at him._

"I'm not sure," Findis answered Makalaurë. "I could- oh, Elemmirë, there you are!" As Findis turned to give her attention to a stunning woman in a shining gown, Makalaure squeezed him again. Then his strokes sped up suddenly, a series of rapid mind-melting bursts of pleasure. Maitimo was biting his lips furiously, but he chanced a glance upwards and saw his brother's heated, wanting face.

His orgasm hit him like a physical force. He came everywhere, shaking as his cock jerked and left streaks on the underside of the table, on the lower part of his robes (thankfully, hidden by the table) and the trousers loosely undone over his lap. The fog of pleasure came over him so completely that he nearly forgot himself and made a sound, but he managed to keep silent as the last of it shuddered out of him.

Makalaure was grinning.

Somehow, in a blur of memory clouded with post-coital high, they forged through another half conversation with Findis without embarrassing themselves. Finally it was just the two of them at the table. Their filthy hands were still covered in come. Maitimo wasn't sure what parts of his clothing might be salvageable, but every limb was buzzing and lax with satisfaction.

"Kano?" he murmured, still warm and full of feel good hormones. "How are we getting out of here without being seen?"

Makalaurë smiled, subtly wiped his hands off on the insides of Maitimo's nether clothing, and pulled back to stand from the table. With his tunic hanging down there seemed to be nothing out of place but a slight flush.

"That's your problem, sweet brother," he told Maitimo, and planted a very fraternal kiss on the top of his head before making to leave.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you," Maitimo hissed. He remained stuck in his chair, unable to stand without revealing the state of his clothing.

Maglor laughed, his eyes bright and sparkling as he walked backwards away from Maitimo. His hair framed his face like the curtains of a stage, a hidden performance ready in the wings to come out and put on a dazzling show. "I'm counting on it. I'll be in your chambers for our nightly chess game, brother. I look forward to seeing you there." And he was gone in a flash of colour.

Alone and wrecked in the middle of an uptight hall full of sweeping grand majesty and high beauty, Maitimo smiled despite the indignity of his situation. Finding a way to remove himself from here wouldn't be fun; but what came after most definitely would.


End file.
